#PoetryTakeMeAway
"An hour from here, in a tidy alley

every man will drip with your flaccid fat,

I have opened so many chests of verses for you,

I, squanderer, waster of priceless words.

Here you are, man, with cabbage mustache

leftovers of soups that somewhere you didn’t finish

here you are, woman, all paved with makeup,

you have the look of an oyster that comes from the shells of things.

All of you, on the butterfly of the poetic heart

stretch out, filthy, some with galoshes and some without.

The crowd gets enraged and rubs against each other,

the hundred-headed louse will raise its legs.

And if today I, a vulgar Hun,

don’t feel like being your jester, you will see

how I start to laugh and with joy I spit,

I spit in your face

I, waster, squanderer of priceless words."

Vladimir Vladimirovic Mayakovsky